


Pyjamas

by CapaldiGirl88



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005), Doctor Who RPF, Scottish Actor RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-05
Updated: 2015-11-05
Packaged: 2018-04-30 04:53:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5151005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CapaldiGirl88/pseuds/CapaldiGirl88
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter really likes pyjamas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pyjamas

Sitting on the sofa in your pyjamas, you realise that you look about twelve. What doesn’t help your image is the fact that you are colouring in. Peter had come home that evening with one of the prototypes for the new Doctor Who colouring book and a pack of felt tip pens because he knows how stressful your week has been and he knows that you love colouring in.   
The living room is warm and you marvel at how cosy it is; both you and Peter sat on the sofa in your pyjamas, the real wood fire crackling whilst a storm blows outside, enough to make the windows shake.   
“Cup of tea?” You ask, looking over at the love of your life as he is sprawled on his half of the sofa; a mound of cushions under his back as he half sits half splays himself. His long lean legs are spread wide and stretched out, his woolly sock clad feet coming to rest under the teak coffee table.   
“Please darlin’” He replies and your body shivers deliciously as his blue eyes wash over you. 

With steaming mugs now settled on the coffee table you move to retake your seat and once again sit cross legged, although now your colouring book has been forgotten as you scoot closer to Peter, who hadn’t moved a muscle.   
With his attention never leaving the programme on the television, you watch as his left hand moves to your legs and begins to trail long fingers over the skin. You have never been so grateful to yourself for shaving your legs that morning before deciding to wear short pyjamas bottoms this evening. The sensation tickles and you try to suppress the moan that crawls up your throat as his fingers move further long your leg, over your knee and towards your inner thigh.   
You give up pretending to watch the TV to observe Peter instead; your fingers twitch as your mind screams at you to run your fingers along his slim torso, covered by a faded Bowie t shirt, and to touch the warm skin underneath which would feel so soft. His fingers are now slowly teasing the soft skin on the inside of your thigh, just centimetres away from playing a whole different game. Suddenly you realise that his chest is rising more rapidly and your eyes run down his body and you can’t help but smirk to yourself when you notice the rather large problem he is having. The fact that Peter likes to splay himself out when relaxing only serves to emphasise his growing need through his red tartan pyjama bottoms.  
“I didn’t realise you felt this way about giraffes.” You tease, delighting when he looks at you, his eyes full of lust and a smirk on his face.   
“It’s you! You’re such a tease! Sitting there cross legged in those shorts.” You look down at the shorts and realise that while yes they are a little on the short side, it’s nothing you haven’t worn before for bed.  
“I’ve worn these loads of times.” You chuckle, running your fingers up his arm, making sure you lightly scrape your fingernails against his skin, taking pleasure when he shudders lightly at the sensation.  
“I’m aware of how many times you’ve worn them; they’re my favourite pair. They’re tight in all the right places and leave nothing to the imagination when you’re sitting like that… and I know that you’re not wearing any underwear.”   
Before you can comment you find yourself being picked up by the hips and deposited onto Peter’s lap. With your legs either side of his slim hips you settled yourself down against him, enjoying the feel of his hardness nestled against your bottom. Your hands immediately find the hem of his t shirt and waste no time in sliding underneath to brush across the expanse of soft warm skin. His large hands are still settled firmly on your hips, keeping your lower bodies pressed together and you moan softly as his fingertips dig ever so slightly into your skin, the contact sizzling all of your nerve endings.  
With your hands still around his torso you lean forward and softly brush your lips against him, enjoying the feel of his soft dry lips under your own slightly more moist ones.   
“So you really like my shorts then?” You tease, knowing how much he enjoys the feel of your warm breath against his lips and the flutter of your eyelashes against his skin.   
“I refuse to allow you to wear anything else to bed….. ever!” He moans breathlessly before capturing your lips in a passionate kiss and you can’t help but praise yourself for your impulse buy a couple of weeks ago when you went on a shopping spree.  
Thank God for pyjamas and colouring books you think before Peter robs you of all sensible thought.


End file.
